His Weapon
by Marlex
Summary: Arya is back in Westeros and has reunited with Jon, who is working to reclaim the north. She knows she has skills that can help him, but is afraid of what he will think when he learns of what she has become. Mentions of Jon/Arya. (Short one-shot)


**Author's Note:** A short story I wrote for the CommentFic community on LiveJournal. The prompt was: _Would you leave me/If I told you what I've done?/And would you need me/If I told you what I've become? _The story takes place in a speculative future setting. Warning: It does include mentions of Jon/Arya romance, so if that bothers you, probably best you look elsewhere.

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Arya allowed herself a rare moment of contentment, feeling Jon's strong arm wrapped around her in the bed they shared. He was asleep, but even with his eyes closed, he seemed ready to protect her from anything that might come their way.

Of course, she could protect herself quite well, and how done so many times, but it was nice to know she didn't have to do it on her own anymore.

Even after two months, she found it hard to believe that they had found each other. After so much time and so much loss, it didn't seem possible they she could experience happiness once again. They had each thought the other dead, and had heard stories telling how it happened, each one more horrible than the last.

But then, shortly after returning to Westeros, she began hearing rumors of a Black Knight rallying troops and lesser lords in the north. A Snow. The Snow. So she followed the rumors, selling her sword when it would get her closer to her destination. She had many faces now, and used almost every one before she found his camp.

After scouting the area, she approached, using her own face for the first time in seemingly years. There was shock on his face when he saw her, then hope, like he was willing himself to believe what eyes were telling him. Then there were hugs and tears and a celebration, although her identity was kept a secret from all but those closest to him.

The days and weeks that followed were now a blur, with events and conversations blending together so only the feelings remained clear. She wasn't sure how a reunion with her half-brother turned into something more, but if she was honest with herself, it was something she had always wanted, even back at home before that damned King Robert came and took her family south to their deaths.

Even with them sharing a bed and her helping him with his plans to stake his claim to the North, there was sometimes an awkwardness around them, and she knew much of grew from her absolute refusal to tell him what had befallen her since her trip across the Shallow Sea. She relayed the details of her escape after their father's murder, and the various misadventures she had undertaken on her trip northward, along with her time with the Hound. But nothing after the moment she stepped foot on that ship sailing eastward. That was her secret, especially from him.

She knew even with the change in her relationship, he saw her as the little sister who wanted to play the knight. But she was no knight. She had blood on her hands, to be sure. He did too, of course, but her blood was not the kind that washed off. She had become something else.

Arya had to admit that much of her silence came from the fear that if he learned of what she had done and what she had become, he would turn her away, unable to reconcile his image of her and the truth of her.

But she knew that those skills, the ones she'd earned through harsh and rigorous training, would be of great use to Jon in his current pursuits. She could do things that his many knights and lords wouldn't even consider on their worst days. And that's why she could be so valuable to him. Killing meant little to her at this point, but still, the idea of killing for Jon, and not just for coin or contract, was attractive to her.

But to be his weapon, he had to know what he possessed. And for that, she had to tell him, and risk being turned away. The Game of Thrones - as she had once her it called in what seemed like another life altogether - had claimed most of her family. She wasn't going to let it take Jon away from her too. Not when she could help him.

She gently shook Jon's shoulder, rousing him from his sleep. He started, but then his eyes found hers and a smile grew on his face.

"What's the matter?" he said, and the concern in his voice warmed her heart in a way that two months before she wouldn't have thought still possible.

"I want to tell you a story," she said after rediscovering her voice. "My story."


End file.
